Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them!
Ant. It is the quality o' th' climate.

Seb.

Why

Doth it not, then, our eyelids sink! I find not
Myself dispos'd to sleep.

Ant.
Nor I: my spirits are nimble.
They fell together all as by consent;

They dropp'd as by a thunder-stroke.

What might,

Worthy Sebastian?-O! what might !-No more :-
And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face.

What thou should'st be. Th' occasion speaks thee, and
My strong imagination sees a crown

Dropping upon thy head.

Seb.

What! art thou waking?

Ant. Do you not hear me speak?

Seb.

I do; and, surely,

It is a sleepy language, and thou speak'st

Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say?
This is a strange repose, to be asleep

With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,
And yet so fast asleep.

Thou let'st thy fortune sleep-die rather; wink'st
Whiles thou art waking.

Seb.

Thou dost snore distinctly:

There's meaning in thy snores.

Ant. I am more serious than my custom: you

Must be so too, if heed me; which to do,

Trebles thee o'er.

If you but knew, how you the purpose cherish,
Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it,
You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed.

Most often do so near the bottom run

By their own fear or sloth.

Seb.
Pr'ythee, say on.
The setting of thine eye and cheek, proclaim
A matter from thee, and a birth, indeed,

Which throes thee much to yield.

Ant.

Thus, sir.

Although this lord of weak remembrance (this,
Who shall be of as little memory,

When he is earth'd!) hath here almost persuaded

(For he's a spirit of persuasion only)

The King, his son's alive, 'tis as impossible

That he's undrown'd, as he that sleeps here, swims.
Seb.

That he's undrown'd.

Ant.

I have no hope

O! out of that no hope,

What great hope have you? No hope, that way, is

Ant. She that is Queen of Tunis; she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples Can have no note, unless the sun were post,

(The man i' th' moon's too slow) till new-born chins Be rough and razorable; she, from whom

We all were sea-swallowed, though some cast again;
And by that destiny to perform an act,

Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come,
In yours and my discharge.

Seb. What stuff is this!-How say you?

"Tis true, my brother's daughter's Queen of Tunis ; So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions There is some space.

Ant.
A space whose every cubit
Seems to cry out, "How shall that Claribel
Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake!"-Say, this were death

That now hath seized them; why, they were no worse
Than now they are. There be, that can rule Naples
As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate

As amply, and unnecessarily,

As this Gonzalo : myself could make

A chough' of as deep chat. O, that you bore
The mind that I do! what a sleep were this

For your advancement! Do you understand me?
Seb. Methinks I do.
Ant.

And how does your content
Tender your own good fortune?

Seb.

I remember, You did supplant your brother Prospero.

Ant.

True;

And look how well my garments sit upon me ;
Much feater than before. My brother's servants
Were then my fellows, now they are my men.
Seb. But for your conscience-

Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if 't were a kybe,2
"Twould put me to my slipper; but I feel not
This deity in my bosom. Twenty consciences,
That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they,
And melt, ere they molest! Here lies your brother,
No better than the earth he lies upon,

If he were that which now he's like, -that's dead, Whom I, with this obedient steel-three inches of itCan lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus,

To the perpetual wink for aye might put

This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who
Should not upbraid our course for all the rest,
They'll take suggestion as a cat laps milk;
They'll tell the clock to any business that
We say befits the hour.

Seb.
Thy case, dear friend,
Shall be my precedent: as thou got'st Milan,
I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke
Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay'st,
And I the King shall love thee.

Ant.

Draw together;

And when I rear my hand, do you the like,
To fall it on Gonzalo.

Seb.

O! but one word.

[They converse apart.

Enter Ariel, with Music, Invisible.

Ari. My master through his art foresees the danger That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth (For else his project dies) to keep them living.

[Sings in Gonzalo's ear.

While you here do snoring lie,

Open-ey'd conspiracy

His time doth take.

If of life you keep a care
Shake off slumber, and beware:
Awake! awake!

Ant. Then let us both be sudden.

Gon. Now, good angels preserve the King.

[They wake.

Alon. Why, how now, hoa! awake! Why are you drawn? Wherefore this ghastly looking?

What's the matter?

Gon.
Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose,
Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing
Like bulls, or rather lions: did't not wake you?
It struck mine ear most terribly.

Alon.
I heard nothing.
Ant. O! 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear,
To make an earthquake: sure, it was the roar
Of a whole herd of lions.

Alon.
Heard you this, Gonzalo ?
Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming-
And that a strange one, too,-which did awake me.
I shak'd you, sir, and cried: as mine eyes open'd,
I saw their weapons drawn.--There was a noise,
That's verity: 'tis best we stand upon our guard,

Or that we quit this place. Let's draw our weapons.
Alon. Lead off this ground, and let's make farther search

For my poor son.

Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts,

For he is, sure, i' th' island.

Alon.

Lead away.

[Exeunt.

[Exit.

Ari. Prospero, my lord, shall know what I have done : So, King, go safely on to seek thy son.

SCENE II.-ANOTHER PART OF THE ISLAND.

Enter Caliban, with a burthen of wood. A noise of Thunder heard.

Cal. All the infections that the sun sucks up

From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him
By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me,

And yet I needs must curse; but they'll nor pinch,
Fright me with urchin' shows, pitch me i' th' mire,
Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark
Out of my way, unless he bid 'em. But
For every trifle are they set upon me:

Sometime like apes, that mowe2 and chatter at me,
And after, bite me; then like hedgehogs, which
Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount
Their pricks at my footfall: sometime am I
All wound with adders, who with cloven tongues,
Do hiss me into madness.-Lo, now! lo!

Enter Trinculo.

Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me
For bringing wood in slowly. I'll fall flat;
Perchance he will not mind me.

Trin. Here's neither bush nor shrub to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing: I hear it sing i' the wind. Yond' same black cloud, yond' huge one, looks like a foul bumbard that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder, as it did before, I know not where to hide my head: yond' same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls.-What have we here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish: a very ancient and fish-like smell; a kind of, not of the newest, Poor-John. A strange fish! Were I in England now (as once I was), and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver: there would this monster make a man any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legg'd like a man! and his fins like arms! Warm, o' my troth! I do now let loose my opinion-hold it no longer, this is no fish, but an islander, that hath lately suffered by a thunder-bolt. [Thunder.] Alas! the storm is come again : my best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other shelter hereabout. Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. I will here shroud, till the dregs of the storm be past. Enter Stephano, singing.

STE. I shall no more to sea, to sea,

Here shall I die ashore.

This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral.

Well, here's my comfort.

The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,

The gunner and his mate,

Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marion, and Margery,
But none of us car'd for Kate;

[Drinks.

*Leathern jack.

For she had a tongue with a tang, Would cry to a sailor, "Go hang:" Then, to sea, boys, and let her go hang. This is a scurvy tune too; but here's my comfort. Cal. Do not torment me: O!

[Drinks.

Ste. What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon's with savages, and men of Inde? Ha! I have not 'scap'd drowning, to be afeard now of your four legs; for it hath been said, as proper a man as ever went on four legs cannot make him give ground; and it shall be said so again, while Stephano breathes at 's nostrils.

Cal. The spirit torments me: 0!

Ste. This is some monster of the isle, with four legs, who hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil should he learn our language I will give him some relief, if it be but for that. If I can recover him, and keep him tame, and get to Naples with him, he's a present for any emperor that ever trod on neat's-leather. C. Do not torment me, pr'ythee: I'll bring my wood home faster. Ste. He's in his fit now, and does not talk after the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if he have never drunk wine afore, it will go near to remove his fit. If I can recover him, and keep him tame, I will not take too much for him: he shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly.

Cal. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling: now Prosper works upon thee. Ste. Come on your ways; open your mouth; here is that which will give language to you, cat. Open your mouth; this will shake your shaking. I can tell you, and that soundly: you cannot tell who's your friend; open your chaps1 again.

Trin. I should know that voice. It should be - but he is drown'd, and these are devils. O! defend me !

If

Ste. Four legs, and two voices! a most delicate monster. all the wine in my bottle will recover him, I will help his ague. Come,-Amen! I will pour some in thy other mouth.

Trin. Stephano!

Ste. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy! mercy! This is a devil, and no monster: I will leave him; I have no long spoon. Trin. Stephano!-if thou beest Stephano, touch me and speak to me, for I am Trinculo-be not afeard-thy good friend Trinculo.

Ste. If thou beest Trinculo, come forth: I'll pull thee by the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo's legs, these are they. Thou art very Trinculo, indeed! How cam'st thou to be the siege of this moon-calf?

Trin. I took him to be killed with a thunder-stroke.--But art thou not drown'd, Stephano? I hope now, thou art not drown'd. Is the storm over-blown? I hid me under the dead moon-calf's gaberdine for fear of the storm. And art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano? two Neapolitans 'scap'd!

S. Pr'ythee, do not turn me about: my stomach is not constant. Cal. These be fine things, an if they be not sprites.

That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor:

I will kneel to him.

Ste. How did'st thou 'scape? How cam'st thou hither? Swear